


A Wife of His Own

by SabineElectricHeart (TheLifeAndLiesOfFerns)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Breeding, Dubious Consent, F/M, Family, Infidelity, Murder, Possessive Behavior, Pregnancy, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-28 23:49:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30147510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLifeAndLiesOfFerns/pseuds/SabineElectricHeart
Summary: Dimitri is concerned about the changes in his marriage if he ever had a child.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Original Child Character(s), Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 12
Kudos: 36





	A Wife of His Own

_"Oh, oh yes, Dima! Come inside me, please!" Byleth begged, clutching at his shoulders hard enough to leave two rows of red crescents behind._

_He tried to hold out longer, but it was building fast, too fast. He loved her so much, he would often lose control, but not tonight. Not now. He would comply with her, eventually, as he always did, but he did not want this._

_In the end, he was just weak._

* * *

It was not unplanned, not precisely.

Such a thing would be an eventuality, it was absolutely necessary for the good of the Kingdom, Dimitri just had to be goaded into it. Honestly, he would have preferred to pick up any of his bastard cousins from the slums, any who carried the Crest of Blaiddyd. Perhaps his wife would be amendable to it, but then she would want to bring them all to the Castle, and that would defeat his purpose.

No, he would have discreetly selected a child from the fold and say it was his own, from the days she spent in slumber. If none were suitable, he would conceive one with a maid and call it a “moment of weakness”. She would be furious and sad, but he would wear her down eventually.

Officially, they had always intended to have children one day. It was only natural for a Royal Couple. They were young yet, not yet thirty, and there were still many years ahead of them to worry about that sort of thing, or so the court officials reasoned.

However, Dimitri knew very well that Byleth was growing impatient for a baby after three years of marriage. She longed for a family of her own, for a child to love and to care, and this was precisely why he tried to extricate himself from these marital duties.

As time passed them by and their friends had children of their own, her baby fever increased. She had even taken, most uncharacteristically, to cooing admiringly over peasant infants that came to the Castle and the Monastery with their mothers, though she always made a point of reminding him later how much cleverer and beautiful the children they would make together would be.

He had trouble not laughing at the idea. Dimitri thought all infants, regardless of their parentage, looked roughly the same, tiny and feeble and oddly crumpled, and certainly not clever. They created off-putting noises and odours and stains, not unlike filthy animals did on the forests, and they would always insist on bursting into tears whenever he tried to hold them.

Still, it was not as if he would be the one responsible for midnight feedings and diaper changes. They had nurses for this very thing, and if his wife insisted on breastfeeding the little demon, then she would be the one waking up. A nuisance, but he could potentially bear it for her happiness. Besides, patience with their fruitless union was growing thin and they needed a child to carry on the noble Blaiddyd name.

So, eventually, he had given Byleth his consent to stop taking her contraceptive tea, and they would let nature take its course. He began his search of the slums for a particularly strong and healthy ten-year-old, and to scout the maids and court ladies for an appropriate mother.

While his scouting wielded no results, Dimitri staved off the Archbishop. He became unusually interested in anal sex, an aficionado of blowjobs, expert at pulling out just in the nick of time. One morning when he drew back and spurted onto his wife’s breasts, she unexpectedly burst into tears.

"It seems like you do not even want a child!" She shrieked, wrapping herself in the bed linens and rolling as far away from him as she could possibly get.

He tried to comfort her, insisting he had not meant anything by it, but she had an all-encompassing gloomy and cold demeanour for days on end. She moved out to the Queen’s chambers from the stately apartments they once shared, and their once joyful relationship became more barren than the tundra in Sreng.

It would be an arduous task to assure her of his love and commitment, and Dimitri knew that, when she finally deigned to return to their bed, he would have to do his duty, no more messing about.

_No more messing about._

That was what it came down to, really. Having a baby would mean no more messing about in bed until noon, no more freedom to drop everything and warp away to Deirdriu for a romantic getaway, no more having Byleth all to himself, whenever he wanted her. He was, in essence, being asked to produce a tiny rival for his wife's affections, and this simply would not do.

He loathed the unconceived bastard, and he dearly wished she would loathe it, too. If she regretted being a mother, he would be only too glad to find a way out of the situation. Many nobles sent their children to a preceptor abroad, and he knew there were many a family who would bend over backwards to have the heir to Fódlan in their household.

On some level, Byleth seemed to recognize that his infuriating reticence was not completely under his control. The night she finally forgave him for his ejaculatory faux pas, she also plied him with a bottle of excellent wine, dry and white, just the way he liked it. When she stripped off her dressing gown and revealed a lacy negligée so thin that he could almost, but not quite, see through it, he stiffened immediately to attention. She smiled seductively as she straddled his lap, then pressed him back into the mattress with a long, lingering kiss, gripping him hard by the wrists. In the moment before he knew what was going on or which way was up, she had tied his hands behind his back with the silken belt from her robe.

He struggled, but only slightly. "Beloved, ah…"

"Do not worry, my love." She cut him off. "I will take care of everything."

The Archbishop followed through with her promise. She carefully unfastened his armour and untangled his tunic, pushing his garments open to reveal marred, pale skin, then ran her hands down his body to work on his trousers. She lovingly drew out his cock, caressing its length, and then, without a further word, lowered herself onto him in one smooth motion.

Dimitri gasped, longing to push that delicate slip up and cup her breasts, but had to confine himself to lifting his hips slightly to meet her.

Byleth was more aggressive than usual, kissing him as though she wanted to devour him, nipping his lower lip until it was red and swollen, and for a moment he had uncomfortable thoughts of certain insect species who bite their males' heads off after mating. The hot, slick grip of her around him soon drove all such alarming visions from his mind, though.

"Yes." The green-haired minx kept moaning as she rode him. "Yes, yes, that is it, Your Majesty."

She rode him all the while digging her fingers into his shoulders hard enough to bruise. The slight edge of pain made it the more delicious, and soon he was only a few heartbeats away from his climax.

"Come inside me, Dima." She murmured against his ear, and sucked the soft flesh of its lobe between her perfect pink lips. "Make a baby with me!"

As she bit down, he arched up beneath her and came with a violent cry, pulsing into her over and over again. She stayed there, head resting on his shoulder, until he was finished, and then blew the candle lighting the room and closed her eyes, wanting for some sleep.

"Byleth, beloved…?" He called, hopeful but still bound.

"I am not sad anymore, but I am rather angry." She replied. "I will have a maid untie you in the morning. If you feel your shoulder screaming, do it yourself, it is only silk. Now, stay put, as I missed sleeping to your heartbeat."

As much as Dimitri also wanted to indulge on her request, he is king and having a maid seeing him bound to a silk tie on the bedpost was not a good look to present.

He managed to get himself free without moving his wife a few hours before dawn, fortunately for his remaining dignity. The older maids, who served under Rufus, had surely seen more peculiar things in their day, but he still did not relish the thought of asking one for aid, all on the while he was still half-naked and sticky from sex.

* * *

If he would thought about it much, a few Moons ago, Dimitri would have expected to be put off by the changes to Byleth's body, but, as it turned out, the very opposite was true.

He was fascinated by the way her breasts swelled, nipples darkening from pale pink to brown. Byleth bought some sort of rose-scented ointment from the apothecary that was supposed to prevent stretch marks, but Dimitri spent more time rubbing it on her growing belly than she did herself. Even the smell of her, the taste of her on his tongue, changed, becoming stronger, more feral.

If he even needed something to sweeten the deal, pregnancy made Byleth more lascivious, at least at first. He would come back late from a meeting with the nobles, slip into bed trying not to wake her, only to have her wake _him_ up in the middle of the night by slyly stroking his cock or sucking it, soft and heavy, between her lips, urging it to full size before he had finished blinking away the sleep from his eyes.

Once, she even persuaded him to fuck her while they were out shopping for Saint Seiros Day presents in town, pulling him into a darkened gap between two buildings and lifting her skirts despite the chill in the air. As Dimitri slammed into his wife from behind, her palms pressed against a grimy brick wall that she would never dream of touching under normal circumstances, he half-dreaded, half-savoured the idea of being caught. In the end, though, he clamped a hand tight over her mouth when she came, muffling her scream, and managed to keep himself silent through sheer force of will. They walked away afterwards with what poise they could muster on shaky legs, and she leaned on his arm, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and unalloyed adoration.

As winter ripened into spring, and their child did the same within her, sex became more difficult, but they rose to the challenge, finding positions that were bearable for her aching back and heavy belly. He learned to appreciate lying side-by-side with her, her back pressed to his stomach, helping lift her thigh just enough to give him entrance, both of them laughing between gasps at how ridiculous they must look.

He loved to suckle her swollen breasts, teasing those remarkable nipples between his lips. Only once did she dare joke that soon he would have to share them with the baby. The cold stare he gave her was enough to put an end to that.

As the birth drew closer, the worries Dimitri had managed to suppress began to surface once more, now compounded by the immediacy of the thing. One night, he dreamed that he was fucking Byleth until realized that she was actually his stepmother, which jolted him from sleep in a cold sweat. He dreaded the arrival of this little invader who would so disrupt their lives, the broken sleep, the noise, the bodily fluids everywhere…

He would never have admitted that he was afraid of the responsibility that came with fatherhood, afraid that perhaps his child would be a disappointment, or, more pointedly, that _he_ would be a disappointment, and yet the unwanted fears persisted.

In response, he grew sullener and more withdrawn as her due date approached, retreating into his study or ensuring that his meetings with his bannermen and the nobility would take him away from the capital. His friends laughed, even as they warned him her sister would think he was having an affair, but he paid her no mind.

Dimitri was not home when their son was born. The night before, Byleth had complained that her back was hurting, but since her back seemed to hurt all the time these days, he paid her little heed. The next morning, she told him she was feeling better, just weary, and encouraged him to go ahead with his plans for the day.

"I will be fine." She told him with a wavering smile. “The baby and I are in good hands.”

He was not asking about the damn leech, but he made no comment either way.

As it often was, his duties for the day had him running all around the Tailtean Plains. His plans included a meeting with a promising junior overseer, at the conclusion of which chat he promised her some extra gold coins for improvement to the road to a windmill on her lot, followed by a _friendly_ visit to a bandit group nestled near the line with Itha, who turned out to be rather more resourceful than he had expected. What was supposed to be a simple interrogation turned into an exhilarating chase along the canal and ended with a body left hanging from the bridge over the border river as a warning to others.

As such, it was much later than expected when he arrived back at the Castle, and by then all of the excitement was over. The midwife was already packing up her bag, but she took the time to tell him that he had a healthy baby boy before she departed.

Byleth and the baby were resting. He did not wish to disturb them, but he had to see the child. Little Adalbert, the name they had agreed on months before – Adalbert for a boy, Adelaide for a girl, was lying in the ornate cradle that had sheltered seven generations of tiny Blaiddyds.

The baby was sleeping so peacefully that Dimitri was seized with a sudden fear that he was not breathing. He laid a tentative hand on the tiny chest and felt it rise, felt the tiny heart flutter beneath his fingers, and was immensely, _unexpectedly_ , relieved.

"He's perfect." He said, half to himself.

Byleth stirred with the noise.

"Where were you?" She asked him, keeping her voice low so as not to wake the baby.

"I was busy.” He excused himself. “Things took longer than anticipated."

Her mint-green eyes were ringed with red, from exhaustion or weeping he could not tell.

"You should have been here." Was all she said, accusing him with her icy gaze.

* * *

Dimitri knew it would take Byleth some time to recover from the delivery, which had apparently been very hard on her, but his heart could not deal with this situation any longer.

She turned inward during those first months, utterly focused on the baby, and everything he had dreaded came to pass. He was locked out of his wife’s life, as it was often the case with aristocratic couples in Fódlan, and he absolutely loathed this situation. The first time he tried to touch her breast after the birth, she slapped his hand away, and though she apologized afterwards, telling him they were just sore, he could not help but take it to heart.

Byleth and Adalbert were in their own little world, and he did not know how to join them there. He buried himself in his work, and when that failed to entertain him long enough, Felix would come around with a sword or Sylvain with a tankard of ale. Neither particularly healthy coping mechanisms.

Six months passed without more than a kiss passing between husband and wife, and Dimitri struggled mightily with himself before finally giving in. The Northern Thistle, by the Harbour Gate, was a place he had not visited since before he was married, before even the war, in fact.

It had not changed much since Rodrigue brought him, Felix and Sylvain to taste their first women, but he had heard in graphic detail from his redhead friend that they had a new acquisition. A woman from Albinea, who could change her physical appearance with magic. It would cost him a thousand gold coins, but, he was assured, it would be well worth it.

She was skinny and short, with lank mouse-brown hair. Certainly not a thousand coins a night whore, at least on the surface. He did not ask for any personal information of the woman, not wanting to know the answer, for whatever she said, it would shame him. The name she used was clearly false, but her smile seemed genuine, not yet turned perfunctory by years of degradation.

"So, tell me what you want." She asked, loosely.

"Green hair." He began without any hesitation, certain of that much at least. "Taller and, uh, bigger..."

He gestured hopefully with both hands.

"Right, luv, I got the idea." She said, and changed before his eyes into a slutty bombshell who could have been an innkeeper in some of the neighbouring establishments.

"No!" He snapped, irrationally annoyed with her for not knowing precisely what he wanted, wishing he did not have to spell things out in such humiliating detail.

Besides, it was bad enough that he was breaking the marital vows he swore, to himself and the world, to upheld under whatever circumstance. He did not have to face this sad caricature of his beloved to feel sick about himself.

"More... Aristocratic. And I am not your 'luv'." Dimitri added coldly.

"More classy, less trashy?" She replied with an insolent wink that made him long to slap her into submission.

Her cheekbones rose, her nose straightened, and her lips curled into an arrogant pout. It was not Byleth, but it was close enough. He would not have wanted this slattern to look like her double, anyhow. It would have seemed wrong. _Wronger_.

"All set?" She asked, clearly growing impatient to get down to business.

"No. Not quite. Could you be… I mean, could you look, ahem, pregnant?" He had to struggle not to blush, to keep his face regal and haughty, even though she had no doubt heard stranger requests in her line of work.

"No problem." She said without so much as blinking, and he watched, perversely fascinated, as her belly swelled, months compressed into seconds. "Tell me when to stop."

"There, that's… That is good enough." He told her after she had reached what looked like the six-month stage.

The king was achingly hard, deprived as he had been. She drew him down onto the bed and he tried, for a little while, to recapture what he had lost. She moaned convincingly enough, and though she did not move like a woman who was truly pregnant, it was close enough for him to fool himself, at least for a little while. He left quickly when he had finished with her, not wanting to see her change back, preserving the fragile illusion as best as he could.

* * *

It was late when Dimitri arrived back at the Castle, but Byleth was awake nevertheless. Her silk dressing gown had a spit-up stain on the shoulder. She scrutinized him with suspicious eyes, but he held his chin up and casually told her he had been out inspecting the southern wall.

She might even have believed him, if it were not for the smell of the whore's perfume that still lingered about his hair when he kissed her goodnight.

Byleth was not a slow-witted woman. She was, after all, a goddess and the highest religious authority in the country. No dum-dum survived long in that position. She had to know what was at stake even if the precise details eluded her.

They did not discuss the matter, it would have been too painful for both of them, but the next day she engaged the services of a preceptress, a young woman from a respectable but unfortunately impoverished family, and then promptly went to her husband's study to suck him off, much to his surprise. He recognized the gesture for what it was – an apology without words – and he felt a renewed hope that perhaps everything might be all right after all.

When, not long afterward, Dimitri voiced his considered opinion that one child was probably sufficient, Byleth agreed immediately, suppressing any resentment she might have felt so ruthlessly that he later heard her proudly telling Mercedes it had been her own choice.

Once Adalbert decided to try and communicate like a proper human being, and clung less to his mother, Dimitri even began to feel quite affectionate toward the little fellow.

As things settled into a comfortable normal for him, Dimitri buried every memory of those Moons deep within himself. He had his wife to himself; it was all that matters.


End file.
